Titles
by SirenAlpha
Summary: Arthur has been many things in his life. The most famous including knight and pirate. Unfortunately, he can't decide if he'd rather be called Sir or Captain.
1. Knight or Pirate

This is partly inspired by Captain Jack Sparrow, "The Deadliest Warrior", and by Kirasohma308's "Look Closely."

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><p>A knight stands for honor, courage, and chivalry.<p>

Not all of us were that

A pirate stands for thievery, murder, and freedom.

At least we kept our word

Knighthood is earned through years of training and an oath of loyalty.

With the appropriate strength, simple enough

The pirate brand is gained with the first mistake and burns all bridges.

The hardest thing I've ever done

A knight receives power from birth and connections.

Something still potent even now

A pirate receives power from the strength of his sword and the men on his ship.

A power that wouldn't be worth having without those men

Knighthood is still bestowed.

Piracy is still condemned.

And I still carry the title Sir and the title Captain.

Most only call me Sir

It's respectable, and that's how I present myself

But it's always on the tip of my tongue to correct them

Captain because that is what I am

I'm as dangerous as the many blades that I've carried

When not in action, obviously, a blade is sheathed.

Besides, a blade, for me, is a last resort.

Sometimes, I think people forget what a knight is.

We were professional soldiers, not heroes

And certainly not romantic.

I also think people forget what a pirate is.

We were created for and by the crown, not by greed

And never try to marry one of us.

As to which I'd prefer to be called

Both 'careers' are long gone

But there are still soldiers

And rebels hardly a step behind.

So I suppose it doesn't really matter

But the next person to call me

old or

weak

deserves what's coming to them

* * *

><p>I could explain why I wrote it the way I did to you, but I would prefer you to come to your own conclusions.<p>

I hope you enjoyed this, and please review!


	2. Civil War

I was not planning on this at all, but I enjoyed writing this poetry of sorts. I'm a bit of a history buff, but English is the only history I know well enough aside from American. It also doesn't really have anything to do with the first. Enjoy the unexpected second chapter!

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><p>Civil War<p>

Possibly the worst thing a nation can go through.

I would know

I've had three.

The War of the Roses

Sometimes I truly hate the monarchy.

The official English Civil War

Payback for the monarchy, but ended up worse

I count the Glorious Revolution

Another problem with the monarchy

Anybody see a pattern?

The first Civil War

Was the only time I did not go by the name of England

It wasn't a proper war

Nor an extreme split

But I was not whole, so I was condemned to half

Lancaster

The Red Rose

Of course in the end

As all family feuds are ended

Marriage solved the problem

And came the wonderful house of Tudor.

The second Civil War

Was the only time anyone dared call me a republic

This was a war

More than my royalty's blood was spilt

I was not whole, but this time I chose a side

Roundhead

The Dark Horse

Of course in the end

Cromwell was as dead as the king

'Republic' died with him

And my prince was returned

Courtesy of France.

The third Civil War

Was the first time there was a bloodless shift of power

I was split, but retained my wholeness

As no blood touched the ground

Protestant

The Safer Route

Of course in the end

America took credit for being first

One leader to the next

Across party lines

I think mine was more impressive

More than 13 little states were at stake

Civil Wars are a terrible thing.

It doesn't really matter how many you've had

Or how bloody they were.

I just don't want it to happen again.

The pain starts in the head

I almost always have headaches when parliament is in session

But this is different.

The searing soon spreads

and consumes your heart

It leaves the Capital divided

and it splits your body into pieces

You want to rip it away

tear out the pain

destroy the toil

and clean away the blood.

War with another country is so much easier

The pain is not trapped inside

You can see the marks on your skin

and know that they weren't caused by your own hand

That you haven't hurt yourself

That you haven't hurt your people

Wounds you can see

dress

heal.

Only thrice

have I wished

that I wasn't

a

Nation.

* * *

><p>Any history mistakes, please point them out. Any writing mistake please point them out as well. It's a little more angsty, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! Please review!<p>

I, also, may or may not be making more of these.


	3. One Too Many

Here is another chapter. It's more related to the first chapter than the second one. Please enjoy!

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><p>My Name<p>

Well, names

As I do have several

England

Britain

Albion

The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland

The last one's a bit of a douzie

And then my human name

Arthur Kirkland

Can you believe America made a brand name out of it?

Apparently it makes batteries.

Most nations only ever have one human name

Nation names change so often

might as well keep the human ones simple

I chose the greatest name I could

The Once and Future King

Even if it is Welsh

Names are rather important

They identify you as yourself

Everyone can recognize by your name

They also have great meanings

and great control

But I once went by another human name

It is just as famous

Robin of Locksley

I took that name to go on the crusades

As King Richard had forbade me

But I had been determined to fight

With my men.

It gave me release

from my duties, my bond, my land, my title

my identity

as so few knew who I truly was

I had wished I hadn't gone immediately after the fact.

As you may know,

It had ended badly.

And I took my chance to return to my land

To check on King John.

I did not like what I saw.

Too taxing

I could feel the strain on my bones.

So I decided to

Redistribute

The wealth.

I became a thief.

I guess that's what set me on the road to piracy.

Somehow, as a thief,

I made a false name

Into a legend

It wasn't even until I had returned to court

And to Arthur

That I even began to hear the stories.

I was made into someone else, almost

There were new characters

And I was made older

I was barely into my teens at that time.

Robin Hood was a hero

Favored over the King

Someone my fealty was sworn wholly to

To whom I should give my full loyalty to

And my people should follow my lead

But I didn't care

Robin Hood was for the people

I was for the people

I was the people

But do I stand with my King as Country

Or with the people that make me?

France once told me that

It takes a hero

To raise one.

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><p>Take this chapter as you will, as I do play around with history, lore, American brands, and Hetalia. Any comments are accepted, and reviews appreciated! I'm not sure if I'm going to make another of these or not, but I could be persuaded to if anyone really wanted it.<p> 


	4. Characters

It is indeed another chapter, and this one actually fits with the title.

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><p>Countries interact with one other<p>

The same way the average human does.

Humans buy, sell, trade, and discuss

Nations export, import, and negotiate.

I would say though

That my most illustrious export

is novels.

Written word, typed idea, once a scribble on a page

Fantasy and fiction bouncing from cover to cover.

Every country has their language

music, food, architecture,

movies, paintings, and

books.

My books have created the greatest legends

My novels have entranced the world

My story telling holds the world

Captive.

As loved as my authors

and their stories are,

Few realize how little

bits of me

are woven into words.

Sherlock knows every street in London

because I do.

Robin Hood, well

he is me.

Victor Frankenstein nurtures my morbid

Curiosity

for life and all of its parts.

Narnia mirrors my

physical being.

Peter Pan unleashes all

of my mischief.

The warriors of Middle Earth

fight on as I do.

Harry Potter encompasses all

the magic I have left

Beowulf is a poorly remembered

piece of my history.

Robinson Crusoe experienced

my thirst for exploration.

Goldilocks is unfortunately referencing

my relations with my brothers occasionally

Vampires are quite frankly

my inability to sleep.

Sweeny Todd illuminates

my bloodlust.

Scary, isn't it?

The War of the Worlds is one of my

theories of space.

Peter Rabbit was a bunny

from my childhood

Treasure Island

I don't even have to say it.

Winnie-the-Pooh is actually

my brother's childhood pet.

Doctor Dolittle has the

super power I want.

Cruella de Ville is my definition

of an idiot,

aside from America.

Lord of Flies

I don't want to get into that.

James Bond took over

my job.

Why do you think the police

in heaven are English?

Willy Wonka has the

kind of insanity I want.

Howl is my slight

temptation to charm,

and my inability to decide

where to live.

The land of Stardust is where my mind

goes on holiday.

V is in honor of a citizen.

We all know who.

That's not even anywhere near half of it.

America could go

on for days about his movies

With original plot,

As in,

they aren't actually based off of

My citizen's work

and he still wouldn't get

anywhere near the length

or greatness

of my list of

Novels.

* * *

><p>There is indeed quite a bit of greatness amongst British novels. I must say, that anyone who reads this should be able to recognize most of these. I'm sure some of them have even inspired a few of you to write. I know they've inspired me. Where would we be without England and his authors?<p> 


	5. Plague

This chapter is not very happy. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless as it is a major mark in history.

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><p>Sometimes I wonder if I'll get cancer<p>

It seems like a pretty common disease

It would make sense

It's probably pretty terrible

Chemo, surgery, and all that.

I might sound curious,

though I've yet to see curiosity

kill any cat,

I don't wish disease upon myself

Or my people.

One just tends to forget what

It feels like

When it's impossible to 'catch cold'

Like any normal person.

I think I've only properly

Been sick once

Along with the rest of Europe.

The bubonic plague

Septicemic plague

Pneumonic plague

The Black Death

A truly terrible manifestation

Of a truly terrible bacteria

Fine at dawn and

Dead at dusk

With pain throughout the day.

The scent of death

didn't linger.

It was quite simply there

Along with bodies

and nowhere to put them.

Fear was everywhere

And no way to stop it

Or the rampage of death.

The monks claimed punishment

The healers proclaimed no use

The families wailed sorrow

And the buboes stated dead.

Men in black cloaks

With masks filled of herbs

Hands drenched in blood

Names pleaded to

Though no help could be given.

The rich ran for cover

The poor could only pray

But all were struck down

A third

A third lay dead

Two thirds in sorrow

All in torment.

I still have nightmares.

Rings of my own flowers

The scent of posies

Mixed with ashes and blood

Dark cloaks

White beaked faces

With twitchy, grabbing hands

Cries of pain

Of sorrow

Chasing after me

Forsaking me

Blessing me out of fear

Or cursing me in shame

Kings in pallor

Unable to face me

Terrified to look away

Trapping me, locking me in my heart

Where the gates won't give out

To save his skin

From the fate of others

Rotting flesh at my feet

Crows in my hair

Death on my skin

And in my nose

Pleads to God I hear

Empty eyes in mine

Blood from my mouth

Melancholy in my chest.

For all the souls we lost

We had to change

Change we did

Without which where would we

Be? But

We all fall down

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><p>I've always had a fascination with the Black Death. The first plague in 1347, and lasted for three years, did indeed kill at least a third of Europe's population. The sudden lack of workers caused an economic change that is believed to have spurred on the Renaissance, though there are other causes. Ring Around the Rosies is not actually about the Black Death, but I think it fits regardless, and the majority of the population believes it is about the Black Death. There were several recurrences of the Black Death, one even during Queen Elizabeth I's reign. In 1665 London was heavily struck by the plague for the last time, and most of the wealthy left the city while the poor died in thousands. Plague Doctors are probably one of the, if not the, best remembered symbols of the Black Death. They could have worn anything, but they are usually featured as wearing dark clothing and white masks with cones filled with herbs which were believed to keep putrid air from affecting the doctor. Most were untrained and could do little to help. It was quite a terrible time, but without it we wouldn't be living as we are today. Please review!<p> 


	6. Industrial

Well, I wasn't expecting this, but here's another chapter even though this story is technically complete.

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><p>I know what other<p>

Nations think of me

Especially America

Especially now.

I'm an older nation

Lost in my own imaginings

words and beings

of magic

Or once

a brat with no future.

Then there's a gloss

over my years as an empire.

Post-American Revolution

Pre-World Wars

It's not there

It doesn't matter

Or rather no one wants to remember it.

There's a reason I

became an empire.

I'm not a magician.

I'm a tinker.

I want to know

How it fits together

How it works

What it's made of

Why it does that

Whether it be

Mechanical

or Natural.

My pirating helped

My trade

But that's not what kept it afloat

Muscle cannot do that

Wherever I roamed

Every sea

Every colony

Every land

I saw

I learned.

Highly unusual in those times

Especially for my age and rank

Especially as a nation

They think that

What their people know

Their government knows

Is enough.

Maybe it is

But not for me.

I had to know

I thirsted for knowledge

and my land

was too small a cup.

I studied

I drew

Of all of it

Every plant

Every animal

Every custom

I have no idea if

they knew it

or even if I mean

they my colonies

or they my people.

I wanted their secrets

Leave nothing for them

to hide.

But they were not enough

The human secrets

Or the nations'.

I wanted the universe's secrets.

I wanted to know it all

And how to beat it.

An easier way

A better life

A quicker kill.

The knowledge readily available

wasn't enough.

I needed discovery

And invention

I alone changed the

Path of history.

I spurned the darkness

Of the life I knew

And sought to outshine

The lost light of Rome.

I did that.

I rebuilt the word.

I built it in iron

I lit the night with oil

I sped production with engines

I fueled it with steam.

I didn't rebuild it

I built it anew

And passed on the torch

But I'm not out of the running.

* * *

><p>I hope this wasn't too confusing. This chapter is about how England spent his time as an empire, not a pirate. A number of writers on this site equate his time as a pirate to his time as an empire. I don't think this is so. Piracy began with Queen Elizabeth, and England began the journey to the top after defeating the Spanish armada in the late sixteenth century, also during her reign. There was, however, a set back with the English Civil War, featured earlier in this fic, which was both during the golden age of pirates and America's time as a colony. The end of the golden age of pirates was 1720. England's time as an empire didn't end until the end of World War II in 1945 (or if you want, the return of Hong Kong in 1997). There is a significant time in which England was not a pirate, but still an empire. During that time was the start of the Industrial Revolution with England's invention of steam engines, and building the first iron bridge in the world. In doing this with further industrial improvement, England impacted every aspect of daily life. Never before had labor been performed by machines. Of course, everyone else joined in. England reached its peak during Queen Victoria's reign in the nineteenth century, long after the age of piracy. Sorry for the rant, but it bugs me how little there is on industrial England, which is perhaps the most important stage of his life.<p>

Also, the part about England learning about other cultures, plants, and etc. is true. Wherever the empire expanded to, British scientists followed. They studied Native Americans when they first arrived, discovered natural selection in Galapagos, and translated hieroglyphics in Egypt. Not to mention any of the chemists and engineers back in England.

Anyways, please review! Sorry for the long author's note...


	7. Music

I know it's been months, but here's another chapter/poem/thing.

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><p>I'm not like Austria.<p>

I've never had a genius composer

That had stunned the world

And their music is still played

Hundreds of years later.

I don't spend time

playing instruments,

But a long time ago

back when I was actually

raised by my siblings

that's precisely how long ago it was

I sang.

I didn't even do it alone.

We sang together

There weren't any words

There weren't any lyrics

There was just a melody between us

and an excellent harmony in our voices.

Then Rome came,

And war came,

And the Anglos came

And the Saxons came

And the Vikings came.

I stopped singing.

I wailed but I did not sing.

The bards sang for me

sometimes it even seemed like

it was me singing

Those songs in particular have persisted.

Then the ever lovely Queen Elizabeth

Set me loose upon the sea

Set me free.

And I sang with my men

the shanties of the sea.

I sang so often and so many

That I can hardly

Remember them all

but I enjoyed it so much

and I liked every one of them.

Then I was hauled back

by my collar to court.

Like some caught dog

and so soon after I

Lost America as well.

I had no reason to sing

Shanties any longer.

Hollowed of happiness and voice.

Despite all of the wonderful

Music and Operas

being performed by

the other nations

I didn't like any of them.

They didn't interest me

the way the simpler songs had.

For decades, centuries

It stayed that way.

I felt gray and the blood spilt

and land lost left me

Beneath a cloud of rain

Then I heard something

That made me want to dance

made me want to belt

I couldn't sit still.

Ironically it came from America.

The scandalously new rock 'n' roll.

I loved every single bit of it.

I taught myself guitar

and the Beatles took center stage

with the British Invasion.

They were so surprised,

Their faces at the sound of it

and I hadn't even realized that

they hadn't ever heard me

sing before.

I sang even though I

wasn't what I had been,

but it didn't matter

because I just loved to hear it

and coincidently live it.

Sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll

Pirate radio on the waves

Classic rock, punk, and heavy metal

Blasting from the speakers

Thrumming in my chest

Sweating from lights, dance, and bodies

Screaming myself hoarse

Having fun till the light of day

Blistering fingertips and lost picks

Playing the perfect riffs

Singing whatever I wanted

Acting however I wanted

Bending every damn rule I could

I wouldn't have minded losing my hearing

So long as it stayed in my head.

Best of all her majesty

Did Not Approve.

I've calmed down since then

obviously

but I haven't given it up.

Andrew Lloyd Weber

has given me at least some

credit outside the world

of rock 'n' roll.

but that's not the real accomplishment

It's the singers.

Most recently and spectacularly

Adele

She blows me away

every single time.

She's not the only one

and for that I'm grateful.

They all sound amazing

but so different

The emotions sincere

they can turn wordless syllables

Into a song

Just the way we used to

and I can't stop listening.

I don't ever want to stop

Singing again.

Pouring my soul into lyrics

and my heart into melody.

I don't think I will.

Maybe the day will come when

my siblings and I

can sing together once more

something heartbreakingly

Beautiful.

* * *

><p>I don't really like this one as much as the others, but I can't figure out how to fix it. If I think of something better I'll replace it. I, also, feel like it's really long and a bit fanboy-ish...<p>

Anyways, this chapter is about England's musical ability. England is most certainly not known for its classical composers like Austria and Germany are. There are a few surviving English melodies from long ago though. I don't know any sea shanties, English pirates and sailors are both known for them (or at least I think they are). Then after the end of World War II comes America with Rock and Roll and England just jumps right in. There is absolutely no surpassing the Beatles in classic rock and roll. The Clash is considered the epitome of punk rock. Led Zeppelin was the starter of heavy metal. England suddenly found a type of music he was good at. There are also a number of fantastic female singers that hail from England. England's' siblings are mentioned because there are a number of good British bands that aren't English, and for the character and non country part of it. Please review!


	8. Easy

Here's another one. This one is just a bit depressing.

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><p>There are two things that are always constant<p>

One before the other

One is happy a celebration

One is sad a commemoration

But neither would exist without the other.

Everyone is born

and everyone dies.

Some might think it gets easier

Each time it happens

How often it happens

That it's easy for us

but it's not.

You don't understand.

We may not sense every death

we would collapse from grief

But all of the tragedies

Every

Single

One

They're not figures

They're not facts

They're not an event

They're not an image.

Every

Single

Person

That dies horribly

In some fashion

Be it war

Be it famine

Be it plague

Is one of ours.

They're not a number

They're not a name

They're not a body

They're not a face.

That's a child

that died before their time.

That's a friend

that died beside me

That's a mother

that fed, cared for, and taught me

That's a father

that I waited for to come home

That's a sister

that was a pain, but showed me right from wrong

That's a brother

that kept me away, but always had my back

That's a grandfather

that told me all those stories

That's a grandmother

that loved to give me sweets

It's them.

I know them.

Every

Single

One

Of

Them

They all hit home

They are all personal

They don't get better

They all hurt.

No matter how much

or how often

It happens

and it will happen

It doesn't get any easier.

* * *

><p>This is mostly headcannon. I read a story a while ago that said that nations eventually grew used to and uncaring of war, and had to reboot. I think that while you might grow used to violence, you will never grow used to death. If all of your friends died in succession, you would not feel nothing when the last one died. You would still cry, and I think this how the nations feel towards their citizens. Death will never be easy, but it will forever happen so long as babies continue to be born.<p> 


	9. Brilliant

And I have another one. I'm drifting more and more into headcanon territory for what it might be like to be a nation and moving away from English history. Just go along and enjoy it.

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><p>Do you know what it's like to have a brilliant citizen?<p>

Not just smart, not just clever

Brilliant.

Do you know what that feels like?

It's like there's a spark.

Right in the back of your head,

If you know where it is

If you know how to feel it

It's there

Even if you can't.

It's not just a spark of knowledge.

That's too simple, too easy

It's not just an epiphany either.

That's too short, too fleeting.

Having a genius, this brilliant citizen

It's a light bulb going off in your head

If a light bulb was a computer

Attached to a database

And that database was a person.

That's where technology fails.

That's why a human can't be one of us.

That technology, the technology of having a brilliant mind

Right there in the back of your head,

Unless it's yours,

No AI, no computer can do that.

A human brain surpasses a computer

Because it can learn.

It can adapt to a situation

And it can be creative

It can think on its own.

And I have them.

Loads of them.

All in the back of my head.

Newton, Darwin, Hawking

All brilliant minds

All sitting in the back of my head

Shakespeare, Orwell, Austen

People who see the world a little differently

And aren't afraid to explain it to everyone else.

It doesn't even matter if they're dead.

They're still there.

They're still that little spark.

I can use their brilliant minds.

I can reach out

Into the back of my head

And borrow that intellect

Sometimes it's a gut reaction

Sometimes it's because I can.

They've all helped me so much.

That's why the humans all boast about them so much.

It's because we don't let them disappear.

We hold onto their minds

And use their brilliance when we need them.

We all can.

I don't know if we all do.

But I do.

I take care of them.

I cherish them.

I keep them sharp.

They've proven themselves so useful

So many times.

It's amazing how effective well placed information is

For leverage

For binding

For slicing

I know I've lost my strength

As I'm no longer an Empire

Though it pains me to admit it

But trust me.

I won't lose those minds.

And that may turn out to be

My greatest strength

As soon as the world realizes

That punches

Won't be able to win you power

Anymore.

* * *

><p>I hope you've noticed the theme in this fic. I think England as a person, not necessarily his population or his government, would be proactive and certainly place great consideration in the intelligence of citizens, namely certain individuals. Information and intelligence have always been major part of history, just as much as or more so than war or any of the other overarching repetitions. Just a little food for thought. Please review!<p> 


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